Marceline's Story
by Cinamon Stick
Summary: You know how Ice King found Marceline in a burning city? Well that set me thinking- how did she get there? Here's what I think happened before she was found. I have an idea: Leave a comment on how old you think I am. I promise it's nor to get a bunch of comments it's just that it would be interesting to see how old I seem to you guys. Winner decide next story!
1. Mama Leaves

"Mama?" I call.

"Marci!" her voice calls.

"Mama!" I find her, pinned under a car.

"Run Marci," she says,

. "No, no," I kneel down and grab her arm.

"Marceline!" she shouts.

I stop, shocked. Mama had never shouted at me.

"Marceline, go," she says. Tears stream onto her red sweater, just like mine had.

I turn and run behind a turned over semi-truck.

Mama looks small under the car.

"Marceline!" a slick voice booms from overhead.

I wince.

"Selestia," he lands, towering over Mama.

He wears a dark suit, like the men in Mamas office. His head is square, with a shark toothed grimace and glowing red slits for eyes.

"Where did you put her?" he growls.

Mama just glares at him. "You'll never find her, Abadear."

"You cannot hide her from me forever," he hisses. "You have minutes left."

"Even when I'm dead, she'll be safe," she says back.

"Nothing is safe from me," he snarls, "You learned that long ago."

Mama dies glaring at my father.

I'm screaming every foul name I'd ever heard at Abadear.

"Marceline," he says, turning to me.

"You killed her!" I yell back.

"It was for the best," he said calmly. "If she lived, how could I have gotten you?"

"You can't have me," I hiss.

"Oh, but I can, and will," he answers.

He grows, suddenly, into a monster worse than any that had haunted my dreams.

"You have no idea how important you are," the beast says, "Half demon, half mortal. You will be a god among gods."

"I will never," I spit, "be like you,"

A hot feeling boils in my gut.

I feel the ground leave me as I turn into something aweful.

"And you can never have _my_ soul," I growl.

Shock crosses his face, as he realizes I'm about to spring.

"I will not fight you, Marceline," he says, and he's gone.

And I'm left to the pile of rubble that is my mother.


	2. Maryc

I clasped the ruby crown in my filthy, bloody hands. It seemed satisfied as it slowly stilled. How many had it maddened? How many had it killed? I swear I could hear the screams of all the tortures souls it had captures, their moans and it fed off them.

Screaming, I flung it at the wall of the cave. It clattered to the damp floor, leaving a crack in the heavy stone. Only I, and half-demon vampire, could cause that kind of damage. How easily I should be able to crush it, soft gold and ready-to-shatter ruby's. Yet it still sat, flaunting it's perfection.

We stared each other down for a while. Me, sitting in the dark, crimson eyes glowing across from it, still as death but thrumming with energy.

I hated it. Hated it more that anything I'd ever seen. I should have been I full form, with all my teeth sharpened and furry wings sprouting from my back, but I was oddly calm for my rage, or perhaps the full situation paralyzed me.

_It killed Simon._

That realization hit me. Simon was dead.

I glasped my head with my hands. Simon, Simon, Simon. He's gone. He's dead. My farp fingernails dug into my scalp, trying to drain the sudden grief. Another horrid though met me.

Simon had been dead for a long time. Yes, his soul had been there, clasped in the suffocating grasp of the crown, but that's all he had ever been. A soul. Not even a man. The frail blue body in the shredded robe was dead now, too. It had been the "Ice King". It had been the crown. Simon might have been able to reach though and pull the strings of the puppet that used to be is body. But it had truly been the crown since I had left him all those years ago.

Guilt emdiately seeped into my veins. This- Simons death- had been my fault.

_No,_ I thought, _You were sixteen. No more than a child, really._

Meanwhile, the crown sat, waiting patiently, hungrily, for its next victim. I remember the broken girl in the ruined city. The girl who was barely here anymore.

All because of the crown.

I despaired at the thought of it destroying someone else. Slowly corrupting and killing them.

"No," I whimpered, "I won't let you,"

I dragged myself across the floor, reaching the the despicable creature. Asif it sensed my distructive thoughts, it inched back, away from my grip. I grasped the eadge of it, and pulled it toward me.

I'd noticed when I fed that after leaching the color out of my food it lost its integrity. Maybe, maybe…

I brought it to my mouth and sucked.

Red had always been a delicious color to me. It was sustaining, and I loved it. But this poison was vile. My frozen systems rejected it. I cringed in on myself, knowing what would happen.

As I began to convulse, I reached toward the dim crown. Twisting my fingers sharply, I cracked it in half.

With what I could only describe as a scream, bliding light poured from it's grey stones. I felt the spirits of its freed prisonder flying past me. Some were greatful, other panicked but excited. They left as quickly as they came, fading to nothing.

One, however, stayed. I cannot say that I was him, but the familiar aura of Simon Petrikov, former Archeologist, a friend, swirled past me before whispering out of the cave.

I sobbed for what felt like hours, but was only minutes, as what was left of the crown filled the room- a throbbing green mass. It suffocated me, but I could tell it was dying.

And I would die with it.

I should say I was scared, but that would be a lie, and I'm done lying. I knew Death. I could face it.

I could rest, after three million years.

I thought of Ooo as I died. Of foolish, pure Finn. I was as surprised as anyone when the memory of Princess Bubblegum flooded into me. I realize what she ahd truly been. She was a leader, a couragouse leader that masked it with her inevivtable sweeteness. How had I not seen that till now? I thought of Candy People, Goblins.

I remembered killing the Lich with these creature behind me. I remembered dethroning my father.

I thought of Marshal and Fiona. I wondered if he'd ever turned her. I hope he had. It would be a shame for them bot to be together as long as possible.

_You might never see any of them again._

I was striked through with that idea. Was I going to hell? I'd killed so many times. Hurt, so many times. Sinned, over and over again.

I imagined what I must look like. An eighteen year old girl, with a shredded red tank top and jean shorts at the bottom of a cave next to a shattered crown. Blood leaking from her pale lips into her tangled dark hair.

The first tear I'd shed in over three million years hit the floor.


End file.
